Sketches
by Adam Epp
Summary: In the third installment, Ishida's plans are revealed.
1. Ichigo: Checkmate

**Note: **Since I have some short _Bleach_ one-shots lurking around that aren't posted on this website, I've decided to begin uploading them here whenever I feel like it. This first one is brand new, though. Overall, this is a series of short stories focusing on different characters. The genre fluctuates considerably so know that you are forewarned.

Anyways, I will give credit to Saigo no Hajime, whose story _Reincarnation Chronicles_ helped inspire this particular story. Read that fic, too.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Bleach._

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**1. Ichigo: Checkmate**

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"Nothing else you can do now, is there? Even a loser like you knows what this means—you're dead, King."

Dead? What the hell is going on? I try to understand how I got here, but I don't even know where here is. I can't even see; it's too dark. All I understand is that bastard is talking to me.

"Hey, come on now, King," he taunts me again. "Would it hurt you to say anything? Come on, I want to hear your last words." His laughter makes my skin crawl.

It hits me then and I comprehend what's going on. My eyes open and I realize I'm back in that place inside my head. I'm standing upright on the side of a checkered black-and-white building, impossible though that is. As soon as I think that, I realize that something is wrong with this world.

"Yeah, that's right, King!" he chuckles. "Your universe is falling apart. Old man Zangetsu split town ages ago. Took you long enough to notice."

The skyscraper beneath my feet is crumbling apart. I need to jump from window to window to keep myself from falling. Assuming that I can fall here. I don't want to even imagine what would happen if fell into the abyss below.

He follows me, grinning sardonically. "You know, I thought you would have been ready for this, King! I told you that you'd never keep your throne." Would he ever stop laughing? "The mighty never conceive that they may fall, even long after they hit the ground."

Leaping back and forth, struggling to find stability, I glare at him. I've had enough of his bullshit. "What the hell are you talking about?" I snap at him.

His smile twists into something evil. "Oh, the king has lost, but I see he hasn't lost his crown yet."

"Stop talking shit!" I command him. His earlier earlier words tug at my mind. "What do you mean, I'm dead?"

"Are you stupid, King?" he grins wildly. An insane zeal invades his eyes. "Dead is dead and dead is what you are."

I come to a halt and nearly slip when the cement below my feet disintegrates. I scramble to a new ledge—I'm fast running out of places to stand. "Don't you mean you're stupid?" I reply, grinning myself. Yeah, we're opposite sides of the same mirror, all right, and I'm happy for that now. "If I'm dead—which I'm not!—then so are you, jackass. We live and die together."

His smile remains, much as I expected it to falter. Why is he so calm? Why do I get that impression that he knows something I don't? Sweat rolls down my face and not because I'm working desperately to stay on top of this shrinking black-and-white building.

"You forgot…didn't you?" He licks his lips, as though this information was a succulent treat. "No, you made yourself forget!"

Made myself forget what? I'm wise enough not to ask out loud. In the brief silence, it comes to my attention that he isn't jumping about like me. The building doesn't fall apart where he stands. Only where I am.

A slow cackle leaves his mouth. Ecstasy widens his black eyes and his golden pupils dilate. "Yes, you don't remember!" he surmises easily enough. "Shall I tell you what your mind tried so hard to block out?" His tone is filled with manic glee.

The distance I have to jump each time has increased dramatically. I do my best to get further away from him, but only now do I notice that the few ledges left are close to the bastard. Slowly, I'm being forced to get closer to him. Dammit!

"Go to hell!" I curse him and his pasty-white skin. I don't give a shit about what he has to say.

"Hell?" He laughs harder than ever. "King, you think this isn't hell?"

Soon I'll be able to count the number of concrete blocks left to jump on with one hand. Before long, this whole building will be gone and me with it. My only solace is that I'll finally be away from this asshole since I'm fed up with him.

"Fine!" I brashly say, "What is it I refuse to remember?"

"How about a clue for his Majesty?" He rubs his hands together in delight and gives me a mock bow. "You're dead, King, but you didn't die alone."

Unbidden memories flash through my head before I can suppress them. I stumble and nearly fail to jump to a safe location. But I swear I saw an image of Inoue crying before dying. And another of Ishida being run through by a sword. And of Chad without his hands.

I groan involuntarily. A voice whispers that's not all, promises that's not the half of it. But it can't be true, it just can't.

Looking around, I see there's only one other fragment of the skyscraper left (not including where he stands). I muster a half-hearted chuckle. "Is that it?"

"Oh no, of course not, dead king." He tilts his head in amusement. "You saw _all_ of them die, watched them while you were helpless as a babe. Even the ones that matter most are gone."

I nearly miss my landing. Yuzu. Karin. Dad. My family, taken from me like my mom was. I can't even describe what happened to them, the images sear my skull from the inside out.

"Yes," he laughs. "Her too."

Rukia.

The final shard of the building collapses beneath my feet and I plummet into the unknown depths. I welcome the void I fall into; it is nothing compared to the sense of loss inside me.

How could I fail to have protected all of them, her most of all? My name's what I am. I'm one who protects. Now I'm nothing. My mind is crumbling.

The sound of laughter tells me that he's falling with me. "Finally admitted it to yourself, huh? White wins and you lose. Everything that made you who you are is no longer: the king is dead."

Fighting my descent, I grind my teeth and mutter stubbornly, "I'm not dead!"

He snickers. "Of course, you're not dead. Your body's a mess but your heart still beats weakly. If it didn't, I wouldn't be here. My point is that it's not yours anymore. It's my turn now."

"You think I'm going to let you go on a rampage in my body?!" Bad enough that my friends and family died. The notion of this bastard desecrating my name on top of everything is vile. "I'd rather die!"

"Hmm? Not the wisest king, are you, King? Not surprising, considering your shitty reign, but it's disappointing to learn that I am one in the same with a dumbass. You," he says to me, "will welcome my regime with open arms, King. You already have ever since you died, or else we'd both be dying today."

"What?"

"King, King, King, I've held control over your soul so many times that I can't believe your blindness. You live to fight and I live because you can't win every fight. You're weak and would have died long ago if I wasn't around to pull you out of the fire when things get hot. Just think for a second and you'll know why you need me again."

I ponder over his words and memories of friends dying assail me. Except, unlike last time, I see more faces. I recall those who killed everyone dear to me, those who live instead of Rukia and the others.

"Yes, King," he whispers, "You can rest in peace knowing that I want nothing more than to kill them. I promise swift death to everyone you've ever despised. I vow to make every single one of the murders suffers immensely for the rest of their short lives."

Against my will, I lick my lips. What he offers is tempting beyond measure. Then I scowl, hating myself for desiring the vengeance he would wrought. I'm falling, yes, but do I need to sink so low?

I don't want to say it—I want to let my Hollow slaughter every one of those motherfuckers who gave no mercy to Rukia—but I reject everything he is with a vehement, "Fuck you!"

Suddenly, he snarls at me, "Fool! Fine, this is just as well to me, King. Even if you say you don't want me to kill them, I'll do it anyways! It's more fun to do what you don't want!"

"What do you mean you'll do it anyways?" I feel like laughing and surprise myself when I chortle. His boasts, all of a sudden, are just too funny. "As far as I can see, you're falling down with me." Alarm flashes across his face. Looks like I called his bluff. "How long until we hit the bottom, anyways?" I ask him. "Didn't you say the mighty never know they've fallen even after they hit the ground or something?"

His face contorts in rage. "King, you…you…"

I look downward and then all around. The sky stretches infinitely in every direction. Will I even be aware of anything when I finally die in truth? Maybe it's already happened.

"It seems there's nothing you can do but die with me, asshole," I grin at my dark counterpart and laugh louder than he ever did. "You're even worse than me at realizing you've lost, so let me put it bluntly: Checkmate."


	2. Nightmare

I originally posted this under a locked entry. My first intent had been to include the following scene in a much longer and very silly Unohana x Kenpachi fic. That Unohana x Kenpachi fic ain't happening, though, so I'm adding this to my one-shot collection. There might be a few pseudo-sequels to this (and I am working on one at the moment), for those who might have questions at the end. Finally, this one-shot is quite different from the last.

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**2. Nightmare**

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___A regular dinner table scene in the morning breakfast before work._every_ single day, with pride, because she's a stay-at-home wife! Despite slaving over her office all morning, the kitchen, her complex braid is still perfect—without a single loose strand of hair!—and her fabulous complexion could not be any more immaculate._ not _like being away from each for more than three hours. As you can imagine, nine whole hours of separation is excruciating for them. Alas. Parting is such sweet sorrow._

_Mr. Kenpachi Zaraki has finished getting dressed. As always, his fancy, black suit fits him well. Naturally, he has a clean-shaven look and his long hair has been slicked back most stylishly. Quite a good thing, that, since we wouldn't want his boss angry about his appearance._

_More importantly, however, Mr. Zaraki wouldn't want to garner the disapproval of his lovely wife, the alluring Mrs. Retsu Zaraki. Today, she wears a marvellous white, frilly apron over top of a polka dot dress. Heck, she dons this domestic uniform _

_Oh, these two both look great together._

_And what's that beautiful smell? My my, it seems the blueberry pancakes are finished. They'll definitely taste fantastic. Wait, there's more? Yes! Mrs. Zaraki knows her honey bunny loves his meat, so she's grilled some smoking-hot sausage for her hubby! Mmm, smells delicious, Mrs. Z!_

_Gently, Mr. Zaraki kisses his wife on the cheek, part of the morning ritual for this married couple. Suddenly, an uncharacteristic giggle. Hey, did Kenpachi just give his Retsu a peck on the lips?! Oh, he sure is a raunchy rascal, that one! Mrs. Zaraki bats her eyelashes. Ha ha ha! Looks like this foreplay will be a prelude to another busy night, if you know what I mean!_

_"Good morning, Retsu!" Mr. Zaraki cheerfully greets his wife, pretending he had not sneaked a fast one on her._

_As she should, Mrs. Zaraki shoves him away playfully. "Oh, you," she jokingly accuses him with a hearty laugh. Feeling a bit wild, however, she also smacks a wet one on his mouth to show she has no real hard feelings. Uh oh. This could go on all day at this rate._

_But first, time to eat._

_After setting the table with Mr. Zaraki's astounding delicacies, the wife prepares a simple bowl of oatmeal for herself. That a girl, Mrs. Zaraki! You gotta get your fill of iron if you're ever going to give birth to all those healthy baby boys that Mr. Zaraki wants! Get enough iron, and you might birth boys that a girl or two won't be so bad._

_The breakfast is then eaten in silence. Mr. Zaraki enjoys his newspaper while Mrs. Zaraki ponders over the best ways to clean the house while her husband is at work. She has heard blotting carpets with club soda for nasty stains before adding a soap and water solution is a good idea, but Mrs. Zaraki isn't so sure about this._

_Hey, look at that, the two have already finished their meal! Well, time for them to say goodbye. This is definitely the hardest part of the day for them, as this couple does_

_Come on, Mr. Zaraki, hurry up and work harder at night (when you and her are doing you-know-what) so your wife will have some company to keep her occupied, already! Just kidding, Mr. Zaraki, we all know that you two are both doing your best!_

_"Dear, have you heard about the Kyorakus new appliance?" Mrs. Zaraki asked. The Kyorakus were neighbours to this couple, and lived across the street. "It's called a microwave oven. Apparently, it can be used to reheat all kinds of leftovers, and they say it's going to -"_

_"Honey," Mr. Zaraki breaks in. He knows his wife only tells him this sort of gossip because she never wants to say farewell. Truthfully, Mr. Zaraki never wants to, either, but a man has to be above this sentimental nonsense. "I need to go. It's time for work. You know that furniture isn't going to sell itself!" he tries using a humorous joke to lighten the mood_

_"I know," chuckles Mrs. Zaraki. How silly to think of objects selling themselves! Clearly, her husband's ploy is highly effective. What can you say, though? He knows her well. "Okay, dear, goodbye," she says and gives him another peck on the cheek._

_"Goodbye, honey," he replies and heads for the door._

_But he does not get far before his wife pulls on his arm. "Wait, dear!" Mrs. Zaraki shouts, looking highly distressed. "You forgot to tell me what you want for supper!"_

_Mr. Zaraki rolls his eyes. Oh, that wife of his sure could be goofy, but he definitely loved her with all his heart. And he knew she felt the same._

_All in all, it is only another regular morning for the Zaraki couple._

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"Nooooooooooooo!"

Isane Kotetsu woke up with a loud scream in a slick, hot sweat. It happened again. Every single night, this always happened! Still, they were merely dreams, merely; they didn't mean anything. Isane, as a member of the Fourth Division, often worked with unusual cases, but she had never heard of dreams having prophetic significance. So it didn't mean anything if she had nightmares about her captain and Zaraki every time she closed her eyes.

_Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream!_

Nonetheless, she needed to talk to Unohana—not Mrs. Zaraki!—for reassurance.

Frantic, the woman walked over to her idol's bedroom door and knocked.

"Come in," the reassuring voice of her superior answered.

Isane didn't hesitate to burst into the room and burst out her troubles. "Captain! It was terrible! I just had this horrible dream that you and..."

Oddly, the Lieutenant trailed off there.

"Yes, Isane?" Unohana immediately became concerned. "What is it, dear? Bad dreams?"

There...sitting across from Unohana, there was the problem: Kenpachi Zaraki. Why was he there? Why was he sitting with her hero?!

Isane's hand trembled as her arm wavered, but the woman managed to slowly point a finger at the insane captain. For his part, Zaraki gave Isane a wicked and twisted grin. For her part, Unohana simply looked confused.

_No…no! It couldn't be!_ Terrible thoughts ran through her head, reminiscent of her nightmare. _Don't tell me! It can't be!_

And Isane screamed and screamed.


	3. A Necessary Diplomacy

An entry I wrote for an IshiHime contest at Bleachness.

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**3. A Necessary Diplomacy**

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Ishida had many dreams. Grand plans. Complex schemes. By his own estimation, he thought further ahead than anyone else in his class. Truth was, Ishida doubted most of the other students were ready to rent a room in Rukongai. From the present to his death, Ishida knew how he wanted to dictate his life; he was confused by those who never considered that knowing how to cook might, ten years from now, be a useful skill to impress a future boss in order to gain a promotion.

Of course, Ishida could not plot without learning that life threw in troublesome variations at a whim. Those sudden twists that fate has in ample supply. Often, these changes forced Ishida to accommodate and devise new schemes; he never knew he would desire a car more than a bicycle when he was six years old, after all. No one told him ahead of time of Orihime's kidnapping. But he adapted to these minor (or major) problems and disobeyed his father, if need be, and put his life back on track.

Other knowledge obtained shattered some of his greatest plans. One such realization, at age seven, was that other people had dreams of their own, and that these other plans affected his own. No matter how quickly and skilfully Ishida could sow, forming friendships required that he and a desired friend _both _desire companionship; Ishida didn't make many friends during his childhood.

It seemed his plans grew infinitely more convoluted with each new realization. Fortunately, Ishida was up to par; he'd done much to prepare for the possibility that he may not be ready for, well, anything. So things went smoother than could have been hoped—he bought a car one day, Orihime was rescued, he learned how to cook (and quite well at that).

Only a single hurdle remained, that he could see, but it was a big one. A lot of work had gone into this, yet Ishida's efforts were about to pay off. First, though, there was that crucial matter of finesse known as diplomacy. Should Ishida falter here, the rest of his life was in jeopardy by his own sharp reckoning. Hey, no pressure.

Thus he continued to work thread and needle. To think that so much would depend on the accuracy of a cross-stitch pattern. But would Ishida have it any other way? Never. Play to your strengths, his father always said, and make sure those strengths get you into med school. Not that Ishida listened to his father closely; only to the parts that suited his cause.

"Hey, Ishida-kun, what're you making? Can I see? Can I see?" Orihime asked him eagerly. She hovered over his shoulder, trying to sneak a peek, which made Ishida smile even as it made his sewing considerably difficult.

He clutched the embroidery to his chest, hiding it, and said warmly, "Not until it's finished." His plans allowed no early glimpses. "Wait a little longer, please."

She nodded, backed away, and pulled out two wooden needles and a spool of red yarn. As she began knitting socks, she commented, "I never expected we'd be sewing once we got to Kyoto. Not that I mind," she added and giggled, her orange hair bouncing, "but don't most people go to the shrines here when they visit?"

The shrines did not fit into the grand scheme of Ishida's larger plans. He did not say so, though; he proceeded with working his needle in and out of the aida cloth. "Everyone goes to the shrines in the old capital," he scoffed, shaking his head. "Besides, I'm exhausted after the Iwatayama monkey park."

"That was fun!" Orihime exclaimed. "Thanks for taking me there, Ishida-kun!"

"It was nothing." It was half a year of hard work, saving money to set up this very scenario in the hotel room. "I'm glad you had a good time."

She nodded wistfully, grinning in recollection. Probably remembering the monkey that pulled off Ishida's glasses, and his awkward (and unplanned) chase of said monkey thereupon.

Nonetheless, circumstances had gone better than Ishida could have dreamed. For one thing, he never imagined Orihime, his beloved Inoue-san, would ever become _his_ girlfriend. For the longest time, he'd never aspired to do more than rescue Orihime, or make Orihime happy, or distribute divine retribution to any bastard who dared hurt her. His own logic told him she had no reason to like him and, really, she need not adore him simply because he sacrificed himself for her. She'd chosen Kurosaki and Ishida had decided to respect her decision…if not like it. How was he to know she could have a change of heart?

It turned out, however, that she could not be the gentlest, kindest, most beautiful woman he knew for long before he accidentally blurted out his feelings. And, what do you know, she actually reciprocated. One of those wonderful developments of causality, really, that she came to see Kurosaki in a new light. A good thing, too, because Kurosaki had unwittingly hurt her enough that Ishida'd nearly strangled the substitute Shinigami. And murder simply had no place in Ishida's plans.

"Almost done, Ishida-kun?" Orihime hovered around his shoulder, discreetly attempting to glance at his embroidery again. The scent of her cherry almond soap (given to her by Ishida) tantalized him, but he stopped sewing briefly to wag a finger at her. One day, she'd need to call him Uryuu. A plan for another day.

He concentrated on the immediate task and his dextrous fingers resumed embroidering. "Almost done," he carefully kept his voice even. Strangely, even though he'd prepared for this ultimate event for years, he was nervous all of a sudden. Surely, nothing could go wrong. Yet, so much depended on Orihime's response that disaster was, in fact, a possibility. Come to think of it, Ishida forgot to bring his mp3 player—_their_ song was supposed to be playing right now. Catastrophe was a probability!

He let none of his doubts interfere with his handiwork, though. Soon, one final seam awaited him. His masterpiece would be complete with one last stitch. Ishida's heart rose up and became entangled in his throat. Deftly, he placed the crowning touch on his embroidery whilst sneakily pulled an object out from under his pillow (a different culmination of a different plot, this object). Somehow, he concealed this prized item beneath the embroidery without catching Orihime's notice.

His heart pounded. "It's complete," Ishida announced dramatically. She stopped her own sewing and smiled; her wonderful blue eyes ensnared him. Why now, did she have to look so stunning? _This, of all my plans, had better work!_ His hidden hand tightened around the small object. "You can look now, Orihime. It could be better but…"

He flipped the cross-stitching around so she could see it, while also revealing and opening the box in his hand. She gasped and froze.

By this point, nerves had essentially stopped his heart, so it was no longer pounding against his chest. He knew she would answer shortly, but the time between her initial reaction and her response was pure torture. Because now that he had committed himself, his need to know if her plans intersected his own was excruciating.

An eternity crawled by faster than Ishida could blink.

"Yes," she agreed an instant later, after she caught her breath, and she threw her arms around him. Funny how one simple word from her could replace his torment with pure bliss. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" Amazingly, it overjoyed him just as much to hear her say the word again and again.

They kissed, of course, although Ishida hadn't exactly prepared for this part. Which he couldn't have, as he had no idea it would be akin to kissing her for the first time all over again. Or that Orihime would quickly separate her lips from his so she could snatch the glittering ring from Ishida's palm and slide it down her finger. Ishida was also unaware that a second round of kissing would commence shortly thereafter but keep in mind, a man can only see so far ahead. Smiling, Ishida thought of how this single event would affect all of his future plans. Then Orihime's tongue slipped into his mouth and it would have been discourteous for him not to comply.

The catalytic embroidery lay to side of the couple, currently neglected but certainly not forgotten. It depicted an intricately detailed white knight and princess, resembling Ishida and Orihime, respectively, atop a spired castle. Beneath the drawing, four words and a question mark were embroidered:

_Will you marry me?_

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This is where the words "The End" should be, I suppose, but I prefer to think that things will continue for these two, ne? Happy birthday to Ishida, yes, but my best wishes are for you, Deb.


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